Love Never Dies, Even if You Try to Kill It
by Jase Andrews and Aquarian Wolf
Summary: After a young woman's husband mysteriously dies in an old New Orleans mansion, it's up to her to find out why. However, her ghost host keeps hitting on her, her dead husband is being put through ghoul school, and a certain spook has an evil plan in mind..
1. An Aura of Foreboding

Notes from the authors: Aquarian Wolf and Jase Andrews created Clarisse and Adam Parker, Henry Harcourt, Duncan LeRoch, and Justine Edmonds. All ghosts, with the exception of Dustin T. Dust and Rolly, are part of Disney's Haunted Mansion ride.

Aquarian Wolf wrote the odd numbered chapters, and Jase Andrews wrote the even numbered chapters. Although, both authors did edit and tweak each other's work. : P

* * *

Love Never Dies…Even if You Try to Kill It

Chapter 1: An Aura of Foreboding

"Would you look at the size of this place?" Henry Harcourt exclaimed in his thick southern accent. The construction crew's supervisor lifted up his hardhat, wiped his brow, and let out a low whistle.

"And they say it's haunted, too," a middle-aged man holding blueprints added.

"Well, good thing they payin' us good, huh?" Henry grinned at the small group of men standing around him, who laughed. Turning to the worker with the blueprints, he asked, "You don't really believe that, do you Duncan?"

Duncan LeRoch looked up, his brow furrowed. "I was raised in a very superstitious family, sir." Apprehensively, he glanced at the graves surrounding the antebellum mansion.

"Voo-doo and all that?"

Duncan nodded. "Grandma was a firm believer in the old ways." With a mischievous smirk he said, "Lotta good it did her; she's dead now." The group guffawed at this, not because they found it funny, but because it served as a release for their uneasiness. Everyone was nervous about this job.

Everyone except for one particular young man.

"Adam," Harcourt said. There was no reply. He glared at the twenty-six-year-old, the youngest member of the crew. Adam was facing away from the group, bobbing his head to the music blaring from his headphones. "Parker!" The supervisor yanked off the speakers.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?" Adam Parker cried, indignant that his favorite song, Metallica's "Enter the Sandman", had been interrupted.

The older man shook the headphones in Adam's face. "You have a job to do, Parker!"

"I was waiting for you guys to stop yakking." He snatched back his headphones.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes, I know what I'm doing," Adam replied, exasperated. "Go into the attic, find the ceiling to the gallery, and repair the beams. It's no big deal, Henry. We've done restoration work a hundred times before." He cast his blue eyes over the manor. "Still don't see what's so great about it."

"That don't matter. What matters is the New Orleans Historic Home Society finds this place fit enough to take tourists on over-priced ghost tours every Saturday night! Now get movin'!" He watched the brown-haired young man jog away muttering, "All right, geeze. I'm going!"

Henry sighed and shook his head. "I don't get young people nowadays. Sometimes I'd just like to throttle that boy! He's gonna get hurt if he's not careful."

"And you're counting on it, aren't you?" asked Duncan with smirk. "I know you want to teach him a lesson."

The other man scoffed. "He's a liability. His stupid antics are gonna get us in trouble." He paused in thought for a moment and smiled. "I know I'm not alone in feeling this way, eh Duncan?" Henry knew which of LeRoch's buttons to push if he really wanted to annoy him.

Duncan stared with determined hate at the blueprints. "Dumb punk. Can't believe he gets to wear that wedding band."

"And you seriously would have wanted to be married to her? There's no man who can tame that redhead's wild streak."  
Duncan winked. "I could've. All it takes is a little bit of discipline." The two men laughed as storm clouds gathered overhead. Stopping in mid chuckle, Duncan was suddenly solemn. "That's not a good sign."

"More of grandma's stories, huh?" Henry grinned.

Watching a crow perch on a nearby gravestone, Duncan nodded. A few things Grandma LeRoch had taught him had stayed with him, and one of them was this: A crow on a grave means a life won't be saved, and with clouds o'er head, there'll be rousing of the dead.

* * *

"Billy! Spit out those crayons! Susie, stop trying to glue Jamie's mouth shut!" 

Clarisse Parker was not having a good day. She had not gotten any sleep the night before because she had had this awful feeling of unease, so she was tired and grumpy. Now the feeling had just kept getting worse, reaching something akin to a panic attack. Ignoring it was not working. Although, ignoring "it" had never worked anyway. She knew the feeling was going to persist until whatever would happen happened, or unless she stopped it from happening.

Her mother had always discouraged following the often and eerily accurate intuition that her daughter possessed. Her aunt, however, encouraged it, calling it a "gift". Clarisse just called it a nerve-wracking headache.

She rubbed her temples, feeling an oncoming migraine. Her first grade class usually wasn't this misbehaved, but it was a Friday and the weather was bad. That always made them fidgety.

"Jonathon give Randall's eraser back! Chloe those gold stars are not for eating!" Clarisse ran from child to child, handing back toys, breaking up scuffles, wiping runny noses, and taking things out of mouths. She glanced up at the clock. Two minutes until the bell rang. She hoped she could last that long. "You all have math to finish!" Her nerves were shot. One more interruption and…

There was a knock on the door. "What the hell do you want!" It had slipped out before she could stop it and the door opened.

"Ooh, Mrs. Parker cussed!" the kids taunted.

Justine Edmonds, New Orleans Square Elementary School's principal, stepped into the room, a dark eyebrow arched. Clarisse blushed, turning her ears crimson, and nervously pushed back a strand of fiery red hair. "Good afternoon, Ms. Edmonds."

"Teacher said a bad word! Teacher said a bad word!" the children chanted.

"Do your math homework!" Clarisse snapped over her shoulder.

"We're done!"

"Do it again!" The redhead turned back to the principal. "What can I do for you, Justine?"

Ms. Edmonds bit her lip. "I'm afraid there's some bad news, Clarisse."


	2. The Unexpected Revelation

Chapter 2: The Unexpected Revelation

"It's your husband's work; they say something's happened to Adam," Ms. Edmonds said, and she handed the frustrated teacher the phone.

Clarisse sighed.

_Let me guess_, she thought as she dismissed her class, _He was acting stupid and fell off the roof or something._ Clarisse loved her husband, of course, but the newlyweds were still adjusting to each others antics. Adam liked to be spontaneous and to take risks, whereas Clarisse was more reserved and grounded. On a day like this though, her mood was all over the map.

Clarisse put the phone to her ear once the room was empty and said "Hello?"

"Ms. Parker?" came the reply, "This is Henry Harcourt, your husband's supervisor. Your husband's been involved in an…accident. We need you to get here as soon as you can."

Clarisse got the address of the building, and rushed to her car. As she got in her vehicle and looked at the address, a cold chill seemed to run through her…

With a huge feeling of foreboding over her, she headed towards the house.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Clarisse pulled up to a large mansion. The house looked majestic, but she could tell that it was old and dilapidated – not only because she knew her husband and his crew were restoring it, but the outside of the house was in pretty bad shape. Four large white pillars, reaching two stories, decorated the front of the mansion. At the top of the house there was a small room, with a weathervane at the very top. The house had white wood siding, a deck around all of the second level, and green shutters on the windows, but it was obvious they were no longer the beauty they had once been.

The grounds weren't faring so well either – large dead trees were on either side of the path to the front door. As Clarisse got out of her car, a breeze blew over the house, causing a few loose strands of hair that had escaped when she'd put it in a bun that morning to fly in the wind. The gust sounded oddly like a moaning noise, but Clarisse didn't really notice. What she DID notice was that no one seemed to be here. There was no sign of a construction crew except the abandoned caterpillars and other assorted machinery.

Clarisse walked up to the front steps nervously and knocked on the door, and adjusted her blouse and skirt to make a good impression on her husband's co-workers. As she waited for it to open, she looked at the front porch – the wood beneath her looked like it could break any minute.

"I'm wearing the wrong shoes for this," she muttered as she knocked on the door again.

"Hello?" She called, and tried to look in one of the windows, but it was fully concealed by a thick and dusty white curtain. All of the other windows were the same – it was as if the people who owned the house were hiding something.

Just as Clarisse was going to knock again, the front doors creaked open. She stepped in the house, and realized that she was in some sort of entry hall. It wasn't a very large room, and there were a few doors leading to the rest of the house. Dim candles flickered in sconces, and they seemed to be the only source of light for the room.

"Mr. Harcourt?" Clarisse called, and tried the doors. They wouldn't budge.

"What is this place, a ghost town?" she asked herself in annoyance. She leaned against a slanted wooden wall, waiting for someone to come to her aide.

All of a sudden, the wall she was leaning on started to move! Clarisse jumped back with a little yelp of excitement, and looked into the room as the wall stopped sliding.

It was an octagonal room, with red striped wallpaper and lit with more candles, and from what Clarisse could tell, it was some sort of gallery. There was a tall ladder in the room, leading up to the ceiling. Clarisse stepped to the center of the room to see it fully, and there were four paintings hanging in the room. One was of a young woman holding a parasol, another of a stately man wearing a suit coat and dress shirt, another of an elderly woman sitting on what looked like a white rock, and the last one of a man wearing a derby hat and looking very calm.

Clarisse stared at the paintings, and had an unusual feeling about them. They seemed normal, but she got the feeling that they hadn't been finished or something…

Just as she was about to go out and try the other doors again, when the way she had entered from suddenly slid shut.

"Hey!" She yelled, and hit on the wall, trying to open it up again. She was so busy trying to pound on the wall that she didn't realize that a disquieting metamorphosis was occurring…

"What kind of place is this!" She yelled at the door angrily, "Where's my husband?" Clarisse turned around with her hands on her hips, and suddenly realized that something was different about the room.

It was longer.

The room seemed to be…stretching…somehow. And as Clarisse looked at the paintings, she realized that something was definitely up in this house.

The painting of a girl holding a parasol got longer and revealed that she was walking a tightrope, inches away from the jaws of a hungry alligator. The man in the suit stretched to show that he was wearing no pants, and standing on a lit keg of dynamite. The third painting of the old woman elongated and revealed that she was sitting on a grave, holding an axe – and the grave had a bust of a man with an axe through his head on it. The final portrait of the man, looking quite calm showed that he was sitting on the shoulders of another man, who looked a little nervous…who in turn was sitting on the shoulders of a very worried man, sinking in quicksand.

And as these paintings stretched and just when Clarisse thought things couldn't get any weirder, she suddenly heard a deep, strong voice coming from somewhere in the room.

"Welcome, foolish mortal."

Clarisse whirled around, looking for the source of the voice, but there was no one in the room with her – just her, the ladder, and the paintings.

"This is our gallery, as you might have guessed, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state." The voice spoke again, and it seemed to be coming from another part of the room.

"Who are you!" Clarisse yelled, spinning and trying to find the mysterious speaker.

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding. Is this haunted room actually stretching?...And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows, and no doors. Which offers you this chilling challenge…to find a way out!" As the disembodied voice chuckled after saying this, Clarisse realized that it was true. There did not seem to be a way out – she was trapped.

"Of course," continued the voice, "There's always MY way…"

What happened next took a matter of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Clarisse.

Thunder suddenly crashed from outside, and lightning flashed, causing the lights to go out. It flashed again, and she realized that the ladder was gone – and there was a creaking noise coming from above her. Clarisse slowly looked up, and when she saw what was above her, she let out a scream of terror.

It was Adam. Dead.

His body was hanging from the top of the room, and it was like the previous ceiling had vanished, revealing a look at this new one. Adam's corpse, hung by a thick rope, slowly revolved. He looked normal, except for the fact that his eyes where bright white, and seemed to stare off into oblivion because there was no one there to look through them anymore. Plus, there was the other fact that he was dead.

Clarisse, horrified, continued to scream and tears started to form in her eyes.

All of a sudden, the lightning ceased, causing the room to go dark, and a few seconds later the candles relit themselves.

Adam was gone. The ceiling was normal.

And Clarisse, staring up in shock, collapsed to the floor.

The voice suddenly filled the room again.

"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you prematurely…the real chills come later. Now, as they say, look 'alive'…and we'll continue our little tour."

The wall slid open again, and Clarisse realized that it now led to another part of the house.

She numbly got up and walked though the opening, and it slid shut as soon as she left.

"Who are you?" She yelled, tears in her eyes, "What are you? And why did you kill my husband?"

There was no response.

"ANSWER ME!" She screamed, and started to storm through the hallway she was in, looking for whoever was making that voice.

* * *

A/N: The Ghost Host dialog is heard in the Disney ride 


	3. There's Room for a Thousand

Chapter 3: There's Room for a Thousand….

Clarisse was so upset, she hardly noticed that it was now raining, and the thunder and lightning continued as she walked down the hallway.

To her right were portraits, each very old and probably very valuable. But as she passed them, they underwent a mysterious transformation. They were originally an Egyptian queen resting on a loveseat…A majestic ship, battling waves…a Greek woman with red hair, and a beautiful young girl with black hair, resting her arm on a desk. But as Clarisse walked by, the Egyptian queen morphed into a panther creature, the ship suddenly turned skeletal, a ghost ship on black waters, the Greek woman turned into a scathing medusa, and the young black haired woman became an old white haired hag. The hallway took a right after the portraits, and Clarisse passed two white marble busts at the end of it. Their eyes seemed to follow her as she continued on her way…

Clarisse then found herself in front of a large staircase.

"Okay, I can do this. Nothing too big here…just trying to find out who killed my husband in a creepy old house that seems to be abandoned…"

But Clarisse was wrong. Dead wrong.

* * *

"Oh...my...head," Adam groaned, sitting up. After opening his eyes he squinted in the darkness for a moment before shakily standing. He had been lying on the floor of the gallery. 'How long have I been here?' he thought. Peering down at his watch, he could see that it had stopped at exactly 2:58. He shook his wrist. The hands refused to move and no quiet 'tick, tock' could be heard.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Squelching the urge to look up, he stared at the walls, not realizing that the ladder he had brought in was missing. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, "Hello? Henry? Anyone here?" With a sigh of frustration, he tried to slide open the nearest wall. It didn't budge. "Well there's gotta be a way out of here," he muttered to himself. "Hey!" He pounded his fist on the wall. "Hello! LET ME OUT!" With one final hit, he tumbled forward, head over feet, out of the octagonal room.

"Okay," he said slowly, standing up and dusting off his jeans. "That was a little freaky." He turned around and stared at the wall. "It must have been a trap door, right? Like a swinging dog door. And it opened. And I fell out. It happened so quickly I didn't even notice." With a short nod, he confirmed his own account. "Right."

A streak of lightning followed by a scream of thunder made him jump. Looking out the window, he could see that everyone was gone. Along with his ride home. "Clarisse will be worried sick about me if I'm not home on time...why am I talking to myself?" Somewhere to his right, he thought he heard some...thing snicker. "Must have landed harder than I thought." How did he get down there anyway? The last thing he remembered was a deep, muffled voice, and then brief pain, and then darkness.

Judging by the deluge of rain, the roads would be flooded within minutes. There was no way he could get home. Unless... He stroked his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "Unless I borrow one of the cranes...again." Chuckling to himself, he thought back on the time he had driven the wrecking ball home. He had almost gotten fired. But he knew the risks of driving something like that through the storm were too much. Besides, nothing good had been left behind anyway.

"I can't believe they just left me. Well, Duncan would leave me. But, sooner or later, they're bound to notice I'm gone and they'll come pick me up." Turning back to face the foyer, he noticed a fire had mysteriously started in the fireplace. He blinked. That hadn't been there before, right? "Must be some kind of automatic... system... thing that was put in for those stupid ghost tours." Laughing, he flopped down on the couch. "Now, just to sit back, relax, and listen to some tunes." He reached at he neck, but all he felt was a mark, like a large welt. "Hey!" he cried when he couldn't find his beloved headphones. "Someone jacked my MP3!" It all made sense now. "Someone tried to strangle me, stole my music, and then dumped me off the beam! This day could not get any worse!"

"Tell me about it," groaned a voice.

Adam started with a yell. Springing up, he saw three men standing by the couch. The first was tall and extremely thin, wearing a bowler derby on his bald head, a big bow tie under his chin, and a long, frayed coat over his tattered pants and well-worn shoes. The second was several inches shorter, plump, with an old top hat, and a long coat that went nearly down to his shoes, and was accompanied by a purple carpetbag. The third and final man was hardly four feet tall, with a long beard that went down past his chest. He wore a simple long shirt and had--Adam's eyes grew wide in fear--a ball and chain shackled to his ankle. "Where did you come from?"

"Well," the plump man started, "my mommy and daddy really liked each other and they-"

"Phinny," the emaciated man cut in, "don't traumatize the poor boy." He flashed Adam a skeletal, unnerving grin.

"Phinny" laughed. "I'm Phineas Queeg. These are my friends Ezra Dobbins," the tall one tipped his derby, "and Gus Gracey." Gus grabbed Adam's hand and shook it so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

"We're the welcome wagon," Gus declared.

"Uh, hi," Adam muttered, trying very hard not to give into the sudden urge to run out of the house. "I'm Adam. Adam Parker." He stared hard at the three men. Perhaps it was the flickering flames of the fire casting eerie shadows, but something about them almost looked...transparent. He blinked a few times. "Oh, yeah, definitely hit my head hard. What are you guys doing here? I thought the mansion was abandoned."

"Oh we're been here for years," explained Phineas. "Can't seem to leave the place, actually," he muttered distractedly. "Can't say we haven't tried. So, what brought you here, huh?"

Ezra bent down at his waist, peering at Adam. "Looks like a hangin'. See all the little ropey marks?"

"Uh..." Adam leaned as far back as he could with one hand protectively around his neck. "Look, I was here with my construction crew trying to restore the house and I fell. I'm just waiting for them to come back for me."

Understanding suddenly dawned on Gus's face, or rather, Adam guessed it was understanding. Facial expressions were hard to determine with that bushy beard. Finally, the dwarf spoke. "He don't get it."

"Get what?" Adam questioned slowly. The trio was giving him the creeps. "Look, I really need to let my wife know what happened. Do you have a phone I might use?"

Ezra cackled hoarsely. "The phone's been dead for years. As well as everything else around here. Get the picture?"

The young man shook his head. "No, not exactly."

The skinny specter turned to the fat phantom. "The boy's dense."

"Understatement of the century," his friend replied. He turned his round face to Adam. "You're...um... Oh, God how to put this? You have left the earthly coil and are now a member of the league of the dearly departed. Part of the innumerable caravan."

"Huh?"

Ezra decided to clarify. "You're late, as in, late for your next birthday. As in, there ain't gonna be no more birthdays. Capisce?"

The youth's jaw dropped in horror. "You mean...?"

"Bingo," cheered Gus.

After several seconds of silence Adam grinned. "Whatever. I bet this is some dumb stunt Duncan's trying to pull." Looking around the room, he yelled, "Okay, LeRoch, you can come out now!" He laughed.

Phineas groaned and put his face in his hand. "This is going to take a bit of work."


	4. Gracey's Greeting

Chapter 4: Gracey's Greeting

After much explaining and use of props provided by the assortment of junk in Phineas' carpetbag, Adam finally started to catch on.

"So you guys are…dead?" he asked them in pure disbelief.

"Yup."

"And…you're trapped here as ghosts?"

"Yup."

"And now I'm one too?"

"Correct, Einstein," Ezra said sarcastically.

"He ain't the sharpest tool in the chandelier," Gus whispered to Phineas. Phineas stared at his diminutive pal and then turned back to Adam.

"So, welcome to the digs. Better get comfortable; you'll be stayin' here for a loooong time," Phineas quipped.

"This can't be happening!" Adam cried, "I can't be dead! I have a wife, a job…a life!"

Ezra snorted. "Not anymore."

"No. I can't be dead. This is all a big mistake."

"Believe me…" Ezra said, standing up. He walked over to Adam, and suddenly put his hand right through Adam's chest. It went through completely, sticking out through the other side, but Adam felt no pain.

"…You're dead."

* * *

Clarisse began to climb the staircase. 

When she reached the top, she found herself in front of a hallway. Seeing as it was the only way to go on, she started walking down it. The house was quiet, but Clarisse had this feeling that something was going to jump out at her at any moment. She soon found herself at a "T" intersection, with another hallway branched off the one she was following. Just as she was about to debate whether or not to go down it, Clarisse looked at the hallway, and she knew that she was definitely not going to, for two reasons.

One: The hallway seemed to go on forever…she could not see an end. It was just rooms, rooms, and more rooms, as far as the eye could see…

And Two: There was a candelabra in the hallway. This would be normal, except for one important fact – it was floating.

The candles in their holder gently floated up and down, back and forth, seeming to patrol the corridors. Clarisse stared at it in awe, wondering if it was some sort of optical illusion or special effects trick. But all of a sudden, the candle turned again, and paused for a moment. Then, instead of making its usual rounds, it headed for Clarisse.

As soon as Clarisse realized that the candle was headed for her, she froze on the spot. She tried to run, but her legs were fixated on the ground, watching the candelabra come closer and closer…

And all of a sudden…

"Can I help you?" asked a droll female voice.

Clarisse screamed.

"Ma'am, please. You'll wake up the guests," the voice said. It seemed to be coming from near the candle. Clarisse immediately stopped screaming, but her eyes were still wide with shock.

"Wha…wha…what-" Clarisse babbled, but the maid interrupted her.

"Oh, you're alive, aren't you," the voice said, "I miss being alive. Then again, I miss being visible, but what are ya gonna do."

"Who are you?" Clarisse finally managed to get out.

"I'm Prudence, head maid of the Gracey estate. And eternal slave to everyone in this mansion. I'd take hell over this any day," the maid drawled.

"Um…c-can you please tell me who's in charge here?" Clarisse asked meekly. She had questions and wanted answers, but wasn't sure where to start with them.

"One moment please, I'll summon him."

The candle headed back down the hallway at a slightly faster pace, and soon disappeared from sight. Clarisse waited for a few minutes, not aware of what to expect. All of a sudden, she saw someone coming down the hall. Someone visible.

As they got closer, she could see them more clearly – it was a man, with black hair and sideburns, wearing a black suit and blue vest and bowtie. His eyes were a brilliant bright blue, and he smiled at Clarisse as he got closer.

"Ah, Miss Parker – pleasure to meet you," he said with a bow. And Clarisse recognized his voice.

"You," she said with malice, glaring at him, "I recognize that voice. You're the one from that room! You killed my husband, didn't you!"

The expression on the man's face changed from cool to nervous.

"Um…what do you mean?" he said, trying to maintain his composure.

"Don't give me that, you bastard," Clarisse said, glaring at him and backing him against the wall next to the hallway, "I know you did it. And I want answers."

"P-please," the man stuttered, "I'd prefer it if you called me Master Gracey. Or George."

"Fine, 'George,'" Clarisse said, her eyes full of hatred, "Tell me why you killed Adam."

"It was an accident! He was on that ladder, trying to fix the beams, and the noose was hanging there, and he tried to shove it out of the way and somehow got tangled up in it, and then some playful spooks decided to try and scare him by making the room stretch, and…" George made a slicing motion across his neck.

Clarisse glowered at him.

"If that's true…then what did you mean by 'There's always my way!'?"

"Oh," George said cheerily, "That's how I died. I didn't know Adam was up there until the lights went off – usually my corpse is hanging there. But the construction crews must've removed it."

"Are you sure you didn't have anything to do with this?" She said, staring him down.

"I've already reprimanded the ghosts responsible," George said quickly, "They will receive the most severe punishment possible."

"Okay…" Clarisse said slowly, "But there's one little problem... My husband's still dead!"

"Oh yes, terribly sorry about that. But don't worry, I'm sure he's wandering around here somewhere."

Clarisse promptly kicked George in the nuts.

"WHAT?" she cried angrily as George collapsed to the floor, eyes scrunched shut with pain, "Are you saying he's become a…a…"

"Ghost? Yes. Just like the other residents here." He gasped.

"I'm pegging this on you," Clarisse said icily to George, "And you better help me find him."

"Well…there might be a way to bring him back."

"What?" Clarisse asked, her cold shoulder faltering. Was this true?

"Yes…we have a…er…woman…here, who's got some magic. She might be able to save him," George said, slowly getting to his feet. He became transparent, then corporeal again, causing any and all pain to vanish.

"Take me to her," Clarisse ordered.

"All right, all right!" George said, throwing his hands up and walking through Clarisse to lead her on. The mortal felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on her head when he walked through her, but soon felt normal again.

The ghost and girl continued down the hall, many more surprises waiting.


	5. Ghoul School

Chapter 5: Ghoul School

Silence as thick as the swamps of the bayou had grown between George Gracey and Clarisse Parker as the mortal followed the ghost down a long hallway. After clearing his throat, George said, "If it's any consolation, I do feel terrible about what has happened."

"Uh huh," Clarisse returned with a roll of her eyes. "You certainly weren't that sensitive about it earlier."

George grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I tend to get carried away with my spiel."

"Yeah. What exactly was that about?"

"It's just something I do." He faltered under her stare. "I, um, have a lot of time on my hands."

He looked so pathetic then that she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"So who is this magic woman you're taking me to see?" she asked.

"Our resident psychic, Madam Leota. She has a remarkable head for--" He heard a loud creaking behind him.

"What was that?" Clarisse turned around. Standing against the wall was an old suit of armor. "Odd, I don't remember seeing that."

"This place plays lots of tricks of the light," George explained. "Now, Madam Leota is--" Creak! Creak!

Clarisse turned around. The suit was now standing alongside the wall, a couple of feet away from its last spot, motionless. "Adam?" she whispered into the visor hopefully. Its only response was silence. With a sigh, she turned back around. "How many ghosts are here anyway?"

"Nine hundred and..." He stopped and glared at the suit, which was making bunny ears behind Clarisse's head. "Will you cut that out!" The metal arm dropped with a groan. "As I was saying, we have nine hundred and ninety-nine happy haunts...well, actually, counting your late husband, we now have a thousand. But I assure you that will soon change."

She bit back any sharp retort and nodded. "Thanks."

He blinked his blue eyes in surprise. "You're welcome."

"So, where do you think he is now? Where do most of the new ghosts go?"

"To be perfectly honest, there's no telling. But I'm sure he's somewhere where we can find him easily, and has probably found a friend or two to fill him in."

* * *

"Good lord!" exclaimed Adam as he looked down at the party. He and the trio were standing on a balcony overlooking the grand dining room/ballroom. Ghosts of all shapes and sizes, and from all time periods, laughed and drank. Six ethereal couples waltzed to an erratic dirge being played by a transparent organist. Each time his fingers hit the keys, skull shaped wraiths soared out of the pipes. Nearly a dozen spooks sat at a long table, happily chatting. At the far end, a plump elderly woman with red hair sat in front of a cake, blowing out the candles only to have them relight themselves a moment later. Two spirits swayed drunkenly on the chandelier, while another swung from it with his cane. On the far wall were two portraits of distinguished looking gentlemen clutching revolvers. Every few seconds they would float out of the paintings, backs to each other, turn, and fire, and then disappear.

"It looks fun in an eerie, morbid sort of way," he said.

"Well, kid," Ezra clapped a hand on the younger man's back. "Time for your first ghost lesson: Flying."

"F-flying?"

"Sure," Phineas chimed in. "It's part of the whole 'don't have a body, don't have to worry about gravity' thing."

"So, how do you do it?"

Phineas and Ezra grinned at each other mischievously. "Like this!" they exclaimed at once and shoved him off the balcony.

Frantically waving his arms, Adam fell, screaming the whole way down.

"Don't tense up! Don't tense up!" Phineas commanded.

THUD!

"He tensed," Gus muttered.

"Eww," Ezra winced. "Hey, he hit the cake! That's gotta be worth five points, right?"

Adam sat up on the table and wiped frosting off the back of his head. "Sorry about that," he said to the redhead.

"Oh, it's all right, dearie," she replied, looking forlorn. "I could never get those stupid flames to go out anyway. You're new, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm-- Gah!" He fell through the table.

"This is just sad," Ezra sighed as he and his two friends floated down to the floor. Looking down, he spotted two pairs of feet sticking out from under the table. He grabbed one and pulled. "Oops, sorry Hal." The drunken Hal Lucination hiccupped.

"'S'all right."

The skinny specter slid him back under and grabbed the other, more modern shoes and tugged. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Adam grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Good." Ezra didn't so much as drop his feet as throw them down. Dusting his hands off, he said, "We should go to lesson number two."

Adam gave him a leery stare. "And what would that be?"

"Why, going through walls, of course!" Phineas answered happily.

"You're not going to slam my head into some walls, are you?" the young spook asked worriedly, prepared to run at any moment.

Gus, Ezra, and Phineas shot surprised looks at each other and laughed nervously. "No!" cried Gus. "Of course not!" Phineas concurred with a chuckle. "You know me, man!" Ezra grinned.

"All right," groaned Adam. "Let's continue with the spook school." He started walking away, limping with one hand on his sore hip.

"So, how are we going to teach him how to go through walls now?" Phineas hissed into Ezra's ear.

"Let's take him to the graveyard," suggested Ezra. "That place is like a giant obstacle course anyway."

"And we haven't tortured Dustin," Gus added.

"And we have yet to torture Mr. Dust today." Ezra quickly looked about. "Hey Adam? Adam! Don't run away from us, we got more to show you!"

* * *

Clarisse jumped as the door handles on either side of her rattled and shook frantically. "How--how long have they been in there?"

"Oh, about a century," George answered nonchalantly. "The corridor ghouls are always a little antsy."

One door was bulging out into the hallway, as if it was taking deep, quick breaths. As Clarisse walked past, it stopped. Hopefully, a voice behind it called out, "Candy gram!"

"You're kidding me," she said. "That's the best you can come up with? If I was stuck in there, I'd be trying harder."

"Uh...singing telegram!"

"Nope, sorry. You failed to convince me to let you out." She and George continued on.

"Avon!"

Clarisse snorted. "Is that the scariest you have here? I know a bunch of seven-year-olds who are more frightening."

George chuckled. "I'm about to show you one of the most scary spooks we have here..." He reached forward, gripped a door handle that was shaped like a dragon, and opened the door. "After you."

The redhead smiled as she walked past. "I suppose chivalry is dead, huh?"

He couldn't help grinning back. "Touché, Miss...er, Mrs. Parker." He watched her walk into the dark room, and closed the door behind him as he entered.


	6. Leota Has a Ball

Chapter 6: Leota Has a Ball

The room seemed to be large, but not very full. There was a glowing green light in the center of it, illuminating a red table clothed table and a large red chair.

"Is this her?" Clarisse whispered to George. He nodded.

"Yes…but things aren't always as they seem… Why don't you go say hi?" he suggested with a little smile on his face.

As Clarisse left George and approached the table, she heard a woman chanting from the other side of the chair. When she saw the front of the chair though, there was no one sitting in it.

"Uh…hello?"

"Down here, child," came the reply. Clarisse realized that the voice was coming from the table…and a glowing crystal ball sitting on it.

"What th-" Clarisse gasped, staring at the ball. It was full of green smoke, but a few seconds later, a woman's face appeared in it. She had gray eyes and pale skin that looked green because of the ball, but had vibrant red lipstick and thick black eyelashes.

"You are looking for your Adam, correct?" the woman said, staring at Clarisse.

"Yes, but…what…who…are you?" the mystified mortal asked. The woman smiled.

"I am Madame Leota, New Orleans' most prominent fortuneteller and communicator with the dead. Please, have a seat."

Clarisse promptly obeyed and dropped into the large red chair.

"So, you're looking for your husband…we might be able to locate him. It's a shame about what happened though; such a lively young man, passed too soon," Madame Leota mused, and Clarisse grew increasingly uncomfortable.

"Uh…can we just get on with it?"

"Oh. Certainly." Madame Leota closed her eyes and began to say a spell.

"Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat…call in the spirits wherever they're at.  
Rap on a table, it's time to respond…send us a message from somewhere beyond.  
Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween…awaken the spirits with your tambourine.  
Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond…let there be music from regions beyond!  
Warlocks and witches, wherever you dwell…give us a hint by ringing a bell!"

All of a sudden, Madame Leota lifted off of the table and began to glow bright green. Clarisse stood up and watched in awe. A deck of tarot cards that had been lying on the table suddenly floated into the air and swirled around the crystal ball. One flew out of the swirling ribbon, and floated in front of Clarisse. It had a picture of a man wearing a bright yellow outfit holding a flower and a bag tied to a string, and he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

"Ah… 'The Fool'…a sign of new beginnings…but these new changes can either lead to good things or bad…"

The Fool card floated back up and began to swirl around Leota, and another one came in front of Clarisse. This one depicted two naked people holding hands with an angel in the background.

"Oh! The Lovers! This is a good sign – your love for your husband is strong, and will be able to stand through anything…watch…"

The picture of the man suddenly transformed into a skeleton, and the angel turned into a skull wearing a black robe. Clarisse's eyes widened, but before she could look at the card more closely, it dashed back to join the others.

"One final card is going to reveal itself to you," Madame Leota said prophetically, and a final card flipped out of the group and landed in front of Clarisse. It was a picture of a man in a white robe holding a lion. She read the caption.

"'Strength?'" Clarisse asked.

"Yes…but not the kind gained by muscle and brawn. This card has a deeper meaning; inner strength, inner fortitude. You, as well as Adam, need all of the strength you can get…this experience will teach a great lesson to you both, but first you need to get through it – both of you."

The cards whirled around Leota one last time and then settled back down onto the table in a deck. Leota slowly returned to her place on the table.

"So…there's a way to save him?" Clarisse asked hopefully. Leota nodded.

"I do know a spell that can save Adam…but first you need to find him."

"You mean you can't tell me where he is?" she griped, rolling her eyes.

"Hey – that little spiel with the cards and the floating took a lot out of me. I'll need some resting time."

Clarisse threw her hands up and stood up.

"Great. Just great. Well…thanks for your help, I'll go spend unnecessary hours searching for him, and may never find him at all," Clarisse said casually, and headed back to George.

"Well…let's get started," Clarisse said to her host.

"Right-o then," he said, and sidestepped past Clarisse and headed for the door.

"I know a few places he might be – and a few places I hope he's not." After saying that last part, George glanced up at the ceiling quickly, then returned his gaze to Clarisse. Wondering if she should ask about that or not, she trailed after him, leaving the fortuneteller to herself.

As the door shut, Leota smiled a little, and her face disappeared.

"Let me see this new spirit, clear the smoke and haze;  
Trail this young man on his path…keep him in my gaze," she chanted, and the smoke dispersed to reveal Adam, Ezra, Phineas and Gus going towards the graveyard. Leota chuckled slightly.

"This is quite an interesting day."

* * *

Adam and his companions were heading to the graveyard, and before they got all the way down the path, Ezra stopped Adam.

"Okay, we're going to skip to lesson three right now: turning invisible."

"Why?" Adam asked.

"Because we love to scare the pants off the caretaker," Ezra said.

"Who?"

"The caretaker – he's the only mortal in the graveyard…now," Phineas said, raising his eyebrows at Adam. Adam felt awkward, realizing that he wasn't a mortal anymore; he could never again live his old life…and never again see Clarisse. Gus saw that he was looking glum, and tried to cheer him up.

"Aw, come on!" Gus chirped, "It's fun! We've done it so many times we've made the guy permanently jittery; not a moment goes by where he doesn't flinch in fear because he thinks someone's creeping up behind him."

"All you have to do is focus on being…not there. Pretend that you don't exist," Phineas said, "And you can target it, too! Watch!"

Phineas grinned as his body disappeared, leaving only his head and his hat floating in midair.

"Whoa," Adam said, surprised. Well, maybe being a ghost wouldn't be so bad…

Adam looked at his hand, and concentrated. All of a sudden, it became blue and transparent, and then disappeared completely. It looked like someone had chopped his hand off. He concentrated more, and watched as his whole body disappeared slowly, until he was gone completely.

"Beautiful!" Phineas said admirably. Gus clapped.

"At least he got _something_ right," Ezra muttered. The others turned invisible, and they walked down to the entrance of the graveyard. Just as the three had said, there was a shaky old caretaker holding a lantern, and a skinny dog standing next to him. They were all trying to be silent, but Adam accidentally stepped on a twig branch. The caretaker jumped and turned his lantern towards them.

"H-hello? Who's there!" he called out. Adam tried to hide a snicker.

All of a sudden, Ezra's head appeared right in front of the caretaker. He grinned and uttered one word:

"Boo."

The caretaker screamed, and tried to run, but Gus appeared and blocked his path. He tried to go another way and Phineas appeared, taking his head off and rolling it down his arm. Adam realized that the caretaker was now running towards him, so he quickly concentrated and made his hands and head appear. He waved his hands around, trying to look scary, and the caretaker's eyes got even wider. The caretaker screamed again, and ran straight through Adam, his dog following. Adam felt like someone had just punched him in the gut from the sensation of being walked through, but it didn't bother him very much – he was having too much fun scaring the caretaker. The ghosts rolled with laughter as the poor man and his pet scrambled away, fleeing for their lives.

But Adam felt like something was missing as he enjoyed the scare; he felt like Clarisse should be with him. But he knew that was never going to happen…

* * *

A/N: Leota's incantation is from the ride. 


	7. George the Ham and Adam's Jam

Chapter 7:George the Ham and Adam's Jam 

"Everyone wanders into the ballroom sooner or later," said George as he and Clarisse descended the staircase down to the dance floor. He smiled when he saw the astounded expression on Clarisse's face. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Looking in wonder at all the spirits, the mortal replied, "Breathtaking." She let out a yelp as a transparent couple waltzed through her. Shuddering, she muttered, "I will never get used to that."

George was stopped in mid chuckle as a plump redhead who had been sitting at the table suddenly sprinted up and hugged him tightly around his waist, making him wheeze. Had he been alive, Clarisse mused, she would have heard his spine crack. "Oh, hello, Georgie!" the elderly woman gushed.

"Hi, aunt Victoria," he greeted weakly as she let him go. He smoothed out any wrinkles she may have made in his jacket.

"Your jacket's fine, dear. But your tie..." She reached up and tried to make it tighter.

"My tie is fine! Don't tighten it; it reminds me of the noose!"

"And your hair... Tsk, I just don't get the sideburns..."

"Would you stop!" he snapped. Gently grabbing her wrists, he pushed her hands away from his head. "Now, I need to know--"

"Well excuse me for wanting to make my favorite nephew look presentable," Victoria huffed.

Sighing, George rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he grumbled.

His aunt smiled. "That's better." She reached up and pinched one of his cheeks. "He's such a good boy when he wants to be," she said to Clarisse. Gingerly, George rubbed his face.

"So," Victoria asked eagerly, "who's your lady friend?"

Clarisse grinned, suppressing laughter at the sight of a very embarrassed George Gracey. It was nice to see his ego taken down a peg, especially by an old woman who hardly stood as high as his chest. "I'm Clarisse Parker. We're looking for my husband. He's, uh, he's a ghost." She felt her throat tighten at this, but continued. "He's about yea high," she held her hand up nearly two inches above her head, "brown hair, blue eyes, blue jeans, and wearing a shirt that reads, 'Who are you and why are you reading my shirt?'" George stared at her with an arched eyebrow. "What? I gave it to him for Christmas last year. We thought it was funny."

Victoria thought it over for a minute. "Oh, yes, I did see him. He fell on my cake, actually." She nodded to the table, where the flattened dessert still sat. "I'm not sure where he went though. I'm sorry dear," she added when she saw the look of disappointment on the mortal's face. "If it's any help he was with those three friends of yours, Georgie."

George cringed at his aunt's nickname for him and began to steer Clarisse out of the ballroom. "Thanks, Victoria."

"You're welcome, dear. I hope you find your husband, Mrs. Parker."

"Thank you!" Clarisse called over her shoulder. She and her ghostly host continued on their search, walking back up the stairs. She stopped suddenly in front of a short flight of steps that lead to an ancient, narrow, wooden door. Unlike the others, this didn't have an ornate knocker or a detailed handle. The knob was dusty. "Where does that lead?" She could swear she heard a faint noise coming from within.

George actually gulped. "Oh, that's, uh, that's not important. He's not in there, I assure you. There's another set of rooms down this corridor..." Before he could walk away, Clarisse began to ascend the rickety stairs.

"I can hear someone in there. Maybe he's here! I can't risk not looking!" Quickly, she sprinted up the steps.

With a groan, the ghost followed suit. "Of all the rooms in all the mansion, she had to wander into this one."

* * *

"What were your lives like?" Adam asked Ezra, Phineas, and Gus as they glided through the Gracey cemetery. Well, Adam stumbled more than glided, but he was catching on.

"I was on a crooked path," Ezra said dramatically, holding his derby over his heart. "Until I saw the Light."

"Oh, the sunlight as we were breaking out of the loony bin?" asked Phineas with a smirk.

"Or the light from the oncoming train?" questioned Gus, cackling.

Adam stopped, allowing them to take a step ahead of him. "Loony bin?" he squeaked nervously.

"Oh, we were in the mental ward for a few years," Phineas commented casually. "'Clinically insane', ha! What do doctors know?"

It was at that moment that the young former mortal attempted to sneak away. "Hey, hey, hey!" Ezra called, stretching out his arm and putting it around his shoulders and pulling him back. "Where are you off to? The party's just startin'!" He gestured to the graveyard.

Ghosts, hundreds of them, flew out of their graves and into the dark, cloudy sky. Spirits danced, laughed, and conversed jovially. A quintet of busts sang a song that Adam couldn't quite make out from where he was standing. (Some jazzy tune called "grim, grinning ghosts come out to vocalize" he guessed.) Joining in on the singing were two opera singers, a full figured woman with long braids and a valkerie outfit, and a scrawny man in a helmet with a thick mustache. Beside them, a decapitated knight and a burly executioner cheerily crooned along. A king and a queen balanced on a sea-saw, and a young princess swung on a swing. The newly made ghost's attention, however, was drawn to a rag tag band of musicians.

This group consisted of a kilt-wearing spook playing the bagpipes, a ghost beating on a casket with a pair of bones, the coffin's owner playing a flute, a spirit plucking a harp, and finally, a phantom in a cap tooting a long horn.

"Cool!" cried Adam. "It reminds me of my band in high school, except we had decent instruments. And we only played in my mom's garage if dad backed the car out." Approaching the minstrels, he waved and called, "You guys got a guitar?"

"Aye, lad," the bagpiper replied. He gestured to a guitar leaning against a headstone.

"Sweet." Adam took it and played out the opening chords to "Smoke on the Water." Ghosts stopped chatting and listened. Some even cheered. A group of drunken revelers picked up lit torches and waved them from side to side. With a grand flourish, Adam finished the acoustic number to the delight of the crowd. "That takes me back. Haven't really been able to get into music since I started that construction job." He put the instrument back down onto a nearby gravestone.

The drummer grinned at him. "We could always use another member, especially someone who could teach us some new songs."

Adam couldn't help but feel proud. It was such a shame Clarisse couldn't have been there to see him. "Sounds fun." He returned to his trio of friends, who were still cheering.

"Boys," said Ezra, "I think we've found the long sought after fourth member of our crew. Phineas, the honorary hitchhiking ghost badge, please!"

The plump spook opened his carpetbag and began digging. "Just a moment... Aha--wait, that's not it..." He tossed an umbrella, two boxes of tissues, a smelly sneaker, and a coat rack over his shoulder.

"How did that even...?" Adam started.

"Don't ask," Gus said.

Phineas was leaning down past his waist into the bag. "I could've sworn we had a bunch made."

The furious clomping of horse's hooves and the squeaking of antique wheels made them all turn. An old black hearse buggy came careening towards them at breakneck speed, its bespectacled driver pulling hard on the reins of an invisible horse. "Heel Rolly! Stop boy! Out of the way! Runaway horse!"

With sly smirks to each other, Gus, Phineas, and Ezra vanished and reappeared on the back of the buggy. "Hey!" yelled Adam pathetically. "Wait for me!" He took a running leap and barely grasped the edge of the roof. Phineas hauled him up.

"What freaked out Spazzy McGee this time, Dustbin?" Ezra called to the coachman.

The driver turned. Upon spotting the trio, he scowled. "Oh, great. The three things that could make this situation worse," he grumbled in a thick British accent. "I don't suppose any of you could be of assistance?"

They took their time trying to formulate an answer, muttering amongst themselves. Rolling his eyes, Adam jumped up and plopped onto the driver's bench. He grabbed the reins in his hands and pulled. Straining with the effort, he and the driver managed to bring the expired equine to a halt, nearly crashing into the side of the mansion in the process.

"Thank you," the Englishman said gratefully, adjusting his top hat. "Rolly gets spooked so easily. He just took off when he heard the music."

"Sorry," Adam winced. "That was me."

The ghost studied him for a moment, an eyebrow arched over his lenses. "You're new, aren't you?" He smiled. "I'm Dustin. Dustin T. Dust." He shook Adam's hand.

"Adam Parker. And you know these guys, right?" He jerked his thumb behind him, where Phineas, Ezra, and Gus were pretending to vomit.

"All too well," Dustin confirmed flatly with a frown.

Above them, in the uppermost room of the house, the light turned on. And a woman screamed. The five ghosts looked up.

"Who was that?" asked Adam.

"That would be the lovely miss Emily," Phineas answered.

"And she is?"

"Oh, just your run of the mill, borderline psychotic jilted bride."

* * *

A/N: Aquarian Wolf created the characters Dustin T. Dust and Rolly. 


	8. Bipolar Bride

Chapter 8: Bipolar Bride

The scream was, in fact, coming from a borderline psychotic jilted bride – Emily Cavanaugh.

George and Clarisse had entered one of the most foreboding rooms in the mansion…the attic. And waiting in the attic was one of the most horrifying, most god-awful creatures that no mortal man should ever have to face:

A whiny, peppy, annoying, spastic, meanie-head bride.

And Emily Cavanaugh was that bride. And she had good reason for screaming: no one had turned on the light in the attic, let alone come in her room, for many decades. And who should be the one to do it but her would-be husband.

Yes, Emily's initial reaction was shock, but it quickly turned to one of rage. As she stood up from her boudoir, Clarisse could see that her heart was illuminated through her dress, glowing red and beating quite loudly; however, it began to beat harder as she approached George.

The two spirits stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity (no pun intended), and finally George gathered the courage to speak.

"Uh…hello, Emily. It's been a while…"

"George Edward Gracey. It has been exactly one hundred and thirteen years, thirteen days, thirteen hours and thirty one seconds since you last spoke to me. Do you realize that?" Emily asked, her eyes blazing. She had a British accent, and the sharpest tone Clarisse had ever heard.

"Uh…" George said, wavering, "I'm really sorry…you see, there's a logical explanation as to why I haven't been up here…"

Emily looked past George and saw Clarisse, who was timidly watching the conversation.

"Oh, I see. You've gone off and married some librarian, haven't you," Emily said huffily, "Honestly, what could she have that I don't?"

"Excuse me?" Clarisse said, raising her eyebrows. She realized that her hair was still in a bun, and removed the scrunchie that was holding it up. Clarisse then shook her head, causing her hair to fall to her shoulders and letting Emily see that she was not some librarian, but actually a vivacious redhead.

"And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm already married. In fact, that's why we came up here."

In an instant, Emily's angry tone suddenly changed to one of delight.

"Oh! You're married? When was your date?"

"Um…six months ago," Clarisse said, taken aback by this sudden change.

"You're a March bride? How marvelous! I was going to be married in the spring too, but alas, that never happened…" Emily said, glaring at George.

"So, uh…anyways, have you seen my husband?" Clarisse asked, trying to get back on topic. She gave the same description as she had to the woman in the ballroom.

"Come to think of it, I may have seen him pass into the graveyard," Emily said thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She headed over to the window, sat on a loveseat next to it, crossed her legs and casually looked out it.

"He was heading into the graveyard with those three bumbling idiots," Emily said nonchalantly, and Clarisse glanced at George. Victoria had said they were friends of George's, but Emily seemed to think otherwise.

"Why did you let them come live here, anyways? They WERE escaped mental patients, y'know. And I think one of them was trying to spy on me while I was in the bath once."

"Well, Gus is my cousin…I can't just abandon my family – besides, his friends needed a place to stay, and they sort of livened things up," George said, still obviously wanting to get away from Emily and this place. Emily sniffed and turned towards her window.

"Uh…well, we hate to rush, but we really have to go now," George said, and he started to walk towards the door.

"Oh, that's it, isn't it!" Emily said, standing and turning towards George, "You don't visit me for years, and when you finally do it's because you want to spend some alone time with Ms. Card Catalogue over here! George, you haven't changed a bit!" She stormed over to her boudoir, stomping her feet as hard as she could, and when she sat down, she screamed again and began to brush her hair with such a force that Clarisse thought she was going to rip it out.

"Er…sorry about her," George whispered to Clarisse, "She's been bipolar ever since she was a child." Clarisse and George quietly left the pouting Emily to herself. When they were a safe distance from the attic, Clarisse asked the burning question:

"Why in the world were you going to marry her?"

George sighed. "It was all about business. I did love her, but she could be…well…what you just saw…at times. Her father was very rich, and we wouldn't have most of the land that the mansion and grounds are now on if I hadn't agreed to marry her. Unfortunately…or perhaps fortunately…she was killed on the night before our wedding. She was locked in a trunk in the attic somehow, and suffocated."

"That's horrible!"

"Yes…and now, she's forced to haunt here with the rest of us," George said solemnly, and the two stood in silence for a few moments.

"So!" Clarisse said, breaking the ice, "Where to now?"

"Emily may be a little crazy, but she was right," George said with a smile, "Your husband is probably in the graveyard. And that's where we'll go next."

* * *

Madame Leota watched all of this with interest, but knew that her powers could not breach the house and see into the graveyard. But she knew someone who could… 

"Sweetie?" She called out to the darkness in a serene voice. In seconds, a small girl that looked about the age of six appeared in the séance room. She looked exactly like Madame Leota, except for the fact that she was quite short, probably about three to four feet tall. The girl walked over to the table and stood on her tiptoes to see the top, grasping the table with little hands.

"Yes, mum?"

"I need you to do me a little favor. The Master and his guest are heading into the graveyard, and I need to keep a watch on them. But Mommy's not able to look past the mansion like that. Can you go watch them for me?"

The little girl nodded, and a small smile appeared on her face. "Okay!" Leota smiled.  
"Thanks, Little Leota," she said, and watched as her daughter skipped away and vanished to the graveyard. Now that Leota had her daughter following them, she could watch through her eyes and see everything – she needed to make sure that the mortal and spirit stayed apart; if they found each other, all of her plans would be ruined…


	9. Dustin's Depressing Diagnosis

Chapter 9: Dustin's Depressing Diagnosis

"So, how did you die, Adam, if you don't mind my asking?" asked Dustin. The group was now gathered around the parked hearse, watching the ongoing party in the graveyard.

Adam scratched his neck, feeling the odd welt that wound all the way around. "Apparently I was hanged...I think. I don't remember. I wish this thing would go away though."

"Could be worse," said Gus, pointing to the decapitated knight holding his head in his hand. He then went back to trying to feed Rolly a rotten apple core. "Eat the apple, pretty pony!"

"We found him lounging in the foyer," explained Phineas, who was lying on the roof of the hearse, using his bag as a pillow. "He didn't even know he was dead."

"I don't remember dying!" Adam cried. "I remember trying to get this rope off of a beam in the gallery, and then...then..." He furrowed his brow in concentration. "There was a dark figure, I think. And then...nothing."

"Hmm," Dustin commented thoughtfully, stirring a cup of tea.

"'Hmm' what?" asked Ezra with a cocked eyebrow. He was leaning against the side of the hearse, arms crossed.

"It's nothing, probably, I was just thinking...Nevermind. It's preposterous." He stared back down into his teacup.

"Spill it, limey!"

Dustin shot a glare at the bony ghost. "All right, Yank," he snarled. More politely and nervously to Adam, he said, "Your case just seems to fit a certain type of...circumstance. You didn't have any enemies, did you?"

After thinking it over, Adam shook his head. "Nah, everyone loved me at work."

The other four ghosts stared at him, eyebrows arched, but remained silent. Crickets chirped. Rolly snorted.

"Okay, I wasn't that popular, I admit. Harcourt's had a vendetta ever since I drove the wrecking crane home that one day. And Duncan... I don't know what his problem is. He's hated me ever since I--" His face suddenly went blank. Quietly and slowly, he confessed, "He's hated me ever since I started dating Clarisse."

With a sigh, Dustin put down his drink. "Well, that explains it. You don't remember dying and you didn't realize you were dead. Those are the signs of a murdered former mortal, I'm afraid. Sorry old chap." He offered him an apologetic smile.

"But Duncan wouldn't kill me!" Adam tried to laugh, but couldn't quite force it out. "He knows he wouldn't have had a chance with Clarisse. The man's twenty years older than her, for crying out loud! And he's an obnoxious control freak, so she ignored him. Plus, the man's so superstitious he nearly wets his pants if someone so much as mentions ghosts. He wouldn't set foot in the mansion no matter how much he liked her." He slouched back against a mausoleum and slowly slid down until his was sitting with his knees level to his chest. "Right?" he asked himself. He crossed his arms, placing them on his knees, and then put his head down. "Oh God, Clarisse!" Slowly his shoulders wracked with sobs.

Phineas and Ezra shot unsure looks to each other, not knowing what to do. "Expressing emotions" and "sensitivity" were quite foreign to them.

"No wonder you don't have girlfriends," Dustin muttered.

"Look, it's not like we don't care," hissed Ezra. "We've just never seen a man cry before...except for Gus. He cries all the time."

"The horsie's not eating the apple!" the short spook sobbed.

"I swear," the coachman groaned, rolling his eyes as he walked over to Adam. He then sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I even brought it up."

Adam sniffed and looked up. Wiping away tears, he said quietly, "It's okay, don't worry about it." He stared down at his wedding band. "It's funny," he said without a trace of humor in his voice, " that whole ''till death' thing never quite hits you until you die. I didn't get to say 'I love you' one last time. She probably doesn't even realize I'm dead yet. She's probably grading papers, glancing at the clock occasionally, waiting for me to call and explain why I'm late."

"If it's any consolation, Adam, there are a lot of people here who were in a similar situation." Dustin cleaned his glasses on his coat. After putting them back he waited a few seconds. Then he loudly cleared his throat.

Adam stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. "You were murdered? Why?"

The Englishman shrugged. "I don't know actually. I was just enjoying a Halloween tea party that Victoria was throwing in the cemetery. Next thing I know I'm hovering above this person lying on the ground who looks like me. The tea was contaminated, I later found out, with vast quantities of rat poison. Killed a few dozen guests. No one knows who did it or why they did." He scowled. "It makes me furious that so many innocent lives were taken. It was no accident, I assure you. Just as your death wasn't either."

Adam scowled. "She's never going to know what happened to me...unless I tell her." He smacked his forehead. "Duh! Why don't I just go home and explain everything?"

"'Cause you can't," Ezra spoke up. "None of us can leave. We're confined to the grounds."

Phineas nodded in agreement. "We couldn't tell you the number of times we've tried to hitchhike out of here."

"I'm afraid they're right," Dustin agreed. "For once."

"Say," Adam looked around. "Why are there so many ghosts here, anyway? The place is packed. These people couldn't have lived here at the same time, there's not enough room!"

"We've got some theories," Ezra glowered, surprisingly dark. "But no one'll listen to us."

"It's because we're crazy!" Gus grinned.

"No, not everyone lived here at the same time," Phineas told Adam, using a tone similar to Clarisse when she was trying to teach a class. "But," here he faltered, "it seems like everyone who lived here or stayed at the mansion for a while died...unexpectedly...in a bizarre way."

"It all started after she showed up," added Ezra, still scowling. "And until now, it stopped after she was put away."

"Who?" Adam asked.

"Leota," growled Gus. "She brought ghosts here!"

"And made more when she couldn't summon them," added Phineas.

"She's doing something evil!" Gus hissed. He was suddenly thoughtful. "Of course, this is all speculation."

Dustin was quiet. "You don't think," he asked meekly, "that she was the one who killed me?"

"I'm positive," Ezra replied. "After we died, we were dragged back here. We watched person after person kick the bucket. And we've heard some odd things from the other ghosts."

"Like what?" Adam asked.

Before Ezra could start on another tangent, he was interrupted as a dainty, ethereal girl skipped up the path, singing an eerie tune. Her long brown hair and white skirt swung from side to side as she bounded along. Bright green eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. Adam noticed that the prank-playing trio was silent, and shot him and Dustin looks to be the same.

The girl stopped in front of them, hands behind her back, swaying forward and backward slightly as she balanced from her toes to her heels. She was the perfect picture of a child's innocence; maybe that was why she creeped Adam out so much.

Dustin didn't get the same feeling of fear Adam did, nor did he catch the glares from the hitchhikers. With a friendly smile, he sat up on one knee to be eye level with the child. "Hello, there! What is a pretty little girl like you doing out in a scary place like this?"

"I'm looking for my daddy."

"Would you like us to help you?" He ignored the protests from Ezra, Phineas, and Gus behind him.

"Ye..." She quickly shut her mouth. Silently, she turned and looked at Adam. Her eyes seemed to glaze over and then glow brighter for a split second. Adam felt sick. "No...thank you," she said, her voice suddenly sharp and deeper. "I'll find him myself." She flashed a grin, turned on her heel, and began skipping away.

"I have just met a child of the corn," whispered Adam. "Who was that?"

"That," said Phineas, "was Little Leota, Leota's daughter. She's a sweet kid, but, man, is she creepy."

"Did you see that thing her eyes did?" squeaked Dustin as he stood up.

"Something's not right about her," muttered Ezra. "She definitely didn't sound like herself there for a second." He frowned thoughtfully, chin in his hand, fingers drumming the side of his cheek.

"I hate to change the subject here," Adam broke the silence, "but there's still the matter of me being dead and my wife not knowing, and me possibly having been murdered."

The others stared at him. "And...?" asked Ezra.

"Well, I would like to see justice served, here! I mean, someone will come back, right? To look for me? There's probably some legal reason they have to. So, we should compile evidence, proving my death was no accident! We show them when they come back!"

"Question," Phineas held up one hand. "Then what do you do when they run screaming at the sight of dead you floating around? It's not exactly fool-proof."

"Are you sure you're crazy?" asked Adam. "You sound pretty sane to me."

"I bet I could stuff ten poodles in my hat," Phineas mumbled thoughtfully.

"That shut me up."

"Perhaps, gentlemen, if Adam's coworkers do indeed come by the mansion," Dustin said, "conveniently laying things out for them to easily find may be a better solution than just, say, appearing and scaring the bejeezus out of them."

Suddenly filled with new vigor, Adam sprinted back towards the huge house.

"Where are you going?" demanded Ezra.

"I'm going to search for clues, anything that proves Duncan killed me!"

"The kids not exactly the brightest bulb in the shed." Gus tugged on his beard thoughtfully.

"Right," Ezra grumbled. "Better make sure he doesn't do something stupid." He and his two friends followed.

Dustin lingered behind, not knowing if he should follow Adam--certainly those bumbling idiots couldn't be of much help-- help Little Leota look for her father--the poor child looked sick-- or... He squinted into the distance. Then he took off his glasses, cleaned them on his duster, put them back on, and then squinted into the distance again. Two people were walking into the graveyard. One was a ghost and the other was very much alive.

_What if that's Adam's wife?_ he thought. _What if she did come looking for him?_ Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, "Adam!" But he and his new friends had already vanished. Shaking his head, he started to jog over to the duo passing through the cemetery gates.


	10. Brat Attack

Chapter 10: Brat Attack

George kept glancing over at Clarisse as they headed out of the mansion. She finally noticed it, and raised an eyebrow of confusion.

"What?"

"Huh? – Oh, nothing," George said quickly, "I was just, er…admiring your hair in the moonlight. It looks quite nice down," the ghost said. Clarisse mumbled a thank you, and shivered a bit. It was now nighttime; Clarisse didn't realize how long they had spent in the mansion. It was also October, so the night sky was quite nippy.

"Cold?" George asked. Clarisse nodded.

"I guess you don't feel stuff like warmth and coldness, huh?" she asked the ghost.

"Yes…one of the upsides…and downsides…of being dead," George said casually.

"Oh, that's too bad," Clarisse said, shivering again. She looked up at the night sky, and George saw that it was time to make his move.

Now, George Gracey was a man of great dignity. He was held in the highest standard, and valued morals a great deal. But that was George Gracey the man.

George Gracey the ghost, who hadn't gotten any action in over a hundred years, stretched his arm out behind him and Clarisse, flexing his fingers, and slowly put his arm around Clarisse's waist.

"Does that help?" he asked. She nodded absentmindedly, as they continued down the path. He relaxed a bit, smiling, and tightened his grip a little. Clarisse suddenly realized that George Gracey had his arm around her, and she stopped and stared at him. When he realized that she was glaring at him, he raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked innocently. She rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, Clarisse noticed a ghost running up the path and towards them.

"Master Gracey!" he said, speaking with a British accent, "I believe that I have found…the…" The ghost slowed and stopped as he saw that George's arm was around Clarisse. George saw him looking at this and quickly removed his arm.

"I was, er, just keeping Ms. Parker warm while we were searching – she was a bit cold."

"I bet," Dustin said, rolling his eyes, and then realized what he had run up here to say. He began to explain everything that had happened in the graveyard.

* * *

Meanwhile, Madame Leota watched the conversation through Little Leota, glaring.

"Little Leota," she hissed, "Stall them! We only need a few hours more!" She whispered to her daughter. Madame Leota had a remarkable head for controlling the minds of others like she had done with her daughter in the graveyard and the construction worker who caused the 'unfortunate death' of Adam Parker, but in a situation like this it was best if Little Leota did it herself.

After finishing talking to her daughter, her face disappeared and was replaced with a grandfather clock somewhere in the house. This was no ordinary clock however – it was demonic looking, with large eyes and teeth carved around the face of the clock. A snakelike pendulum swung back and forth with each second, and bright red hands that looked like serpent tongues. But the strangest thing about this clock was that it went to thirteen instead of twelve. Currently it read eleven o'clock.

"Just two more hours," Leota said softly, with malice in her voice, "And he will have been here long enough to draw power from him. And once I've gained that last ounce of power, I will finally be free!"

The fortuneteller cackled with delight as another minute passed.

* * *

Dustin finally finished his story, and Clarisse had a hopeful look on her face.

"So where is he headed to now?" she asked.

"Er…" Dustin faltered, "I didn't exactly catch where they were headed…but my best guess would be the gallery."

"Back to where this all started," Clarisse said, looking at George.

"Well, let's go then!" George said, "We wouldn't want to keep you from your husband!" But as he said this, Dustin detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Was George developing a crush on Clarisse?

The three were about to leave, when all of a sudden they heard a giggle. It was soft, but still audible, and Clarisse started looking around, trying to figure out where it had come from. A second passed, and then a small girl appeared on the path in front of them, blocking their way to the mansion.

"Hi there," she said, smiling. Clarisse's jaw dropped. This girl was the spitting image of Madame Leota.

"Oh, it's you," Dustin said, smiling, "Did you find your daddy?"

"Yep," the girl said with a grin, and pointed to George. "He's right there."

George's face suddenly paled.

"Wh-what do you mean?" George asked nervously. Clarisse eyed George. Apparently he was even more of a player than she thought.

"Mommy says that you're my daddy; and she says she can prove it," Little Leota said with a giggle.

"I think she must be mistaken," George said quickly, trying to maintain his composure, "Now if you'll excuse us, we need to go back inside, so-"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," the small girl said, her expression changing to one of cold spite.

"Why not?" Clarisse demanded.

"My mommy said not to. And I'm going to make sure that her wish is followed."

The little girl suddenly floated up into the sky, her green eyes changing to bright white. She lifted her arms up then suddenly thrust them towards Clarisse, George and Dustin. They flew backwards, through the graveyard gate, and landed hard on the ground. Clarisse winced in pain, and saw the girl psychically shut the gate.

"I'm afraid that you're going to have to stay in here for a while," she said. The gate was now glowing green, and it seemed to be melded shut.

"Can't you walk through it?" Clarisse asked the ghosts, and they shook their heads.

"Ghost barrier," Dustin explained, "She's probably put one up around the whole graveyard."

Little Leota giggled playfully. "Four eyes is right – you're all trapped now, and soon my mommy will control everything in the house again! But first, I need to take care of you," she snarled, and raised her arms above her head. All of a sudden, the ground started to rumble, and Clarisse saw that it was cracking – Little Leota was causing an earthquake. George and Dustin were able to float, but Clarisse was not. She quickly grabbed on to the fence, and hung onto it while all the ground around her fell away into the depths of the earth.

"What do you mean?" Clarisse yelled to the girl, trying to hang on.

"Your friend was the last thing she needed to regain her strength…and in a few hours, when the clock strikes thirteen, she'll be able to draw more power from his spirit and become whole again! And maybe," she added softly, "she'll finally want to play with me."

Clarisse glared at the child. Whatever she and her mother were plotting, it meant harm to Adam. And Clarisse would not let that happen. She began to climb the high fence.

"Hey! What are you doing!" Little Leota said with a frown. The not so innocent little girl watched as Clarisse reached the top, then jumped over.

"You and your mom aren't going to get my husband!" Clarisse yelled to the ghost. She did then the only thing she could think of – took off one of her high heels and threw it at the girl.

It hit her right in the nose.

"Ow!" she shrieked, holding her nose as the shoe fell back to earth, "That hurt!" The girl started to bawl, and fell back to the ground. Little Leota landed gently on the path, and before she could recover, Clarisse grabbed her by the waist and held her up in the air.

"Hey! Put me down!" she whined, "I'm telling my mommy!"

Clarisse smirked, and then threw the tiny girl with all of her strength. Little Leota went sailing through the air, over the graveyard.

"You meanie-head!..." echoed over the sky as the ghost vanished from sight.

The barrier around the gate dispersed, and the ground that had fallen from the miniature earthquake reappeared.

"Well done!" Dustin said admirably as he reopened the graveyard gates.

"Yes, that was quite…interesting," George said with a smile, "I've never liked that little hell-raiser…"

Clarisse, Dustin and George quickly headed for the mansion now that Little Leota was out of the picture. But that little misadventure with the brat had eaten up a lot of time – there was only an hour and a half left until thirteen o'clock…


	11. The Thirteenth Hour

Chapter 11: The Thirteenth Hour

"Five bucks says he doesn't make it," Ezra leaned down and hissed into Gus's ear.

"You're on," the bearded ghost replied as they bumped fists.

Adam, Phineas, Gus, and Ezra were standing in front of the large, sliding door that led to the gallery. Adam bobbed from one foot to the other, shaking out his hands, and pointlessly taking short, quick breaths. "I can do this," he repeated to himself over and over. "I am one with the wall."

"Oh, he's gonna be one with the wall," Ezra snickered.

"You can do it, champ," Phineas encouraged him. "Just don't tense up like before."

"Um," Adam mumbled nervously, "couldn't we just open the door?"

"That's not the way we do things around here." Adam stared at the plump phantom and waited for an explanation. He didn't get one. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go!"

The young spirit gritted his jaw in determination. Letting out a not-so-manly battle cry of "GAAAHHH!" he ran as fast as he could...

...And went through the door.

"Wha' do ya know?" Ezra said, a look of surprise on his face. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill and then handed it to Gus. Cackling, the short spook hugged it to his chest and then pranced into the gallery.

Phineas turned to Ezra. "You honestly didn't think the kid could do it?"

"Oh, I had faith in him. But the little bets make Gus so happy."

"What would a ghost do with five dollars anyway?"

From within the gallery, a high-pitched, scratchy voice called out, "I'm gonna buy me the Eiffel Tower!"

Ezra and Phineas just shot odd looks to each other and shrugged.

Stepping into the octagonal chamber, they discovered that Adam had not only gone through the door, but had failed to properly stop and was now stuck with the front half of his body in the wall opposite from his entrance. Feet pathetically scrambling at the carpet, he called out a muffled, "Little help?"

Rolling their eyes, the transparent trio grabbed his shoes and tugged. Finally, they pulled him out, getting knocked to the floor in the process. Lying on his back, Adam stared up at the ceiling.

And screamed.

Hanging from the rafters, he could see his corpse gently swaying. The eyes--his eyes!--were bugged out and his lips were blue. The tip of his gray tongue was sticking out just slightly.

And still he screamed. "That's me! Oh my God, that's me! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod..."

"Kinda makes you feel sick every time you watch someone go through that, doesn't it?" Phineas asked.

Ezra and Gus just nodded and pulled Adam up into a sitting position. Gus grabbed the shocked spirit's shoulder and gently shook him. "You gotta snap out of it."

Adam stopped shrieking and a shudder ran through his transparent form. "I just didn't think I'd look that bad," he whispered.

"Yeah, what were you thinking when you got that haircut?" Phineas joked. With a smile, he said, "Look, I know it's tough to see yourself dead. Trust me. At least you weren't run over by a train. That was messy."

Swallowing back his nausea, Adam stood up. "We've got some work to do."

* * *

Dustin stared from Clarisse to George. The mortal had definitely quickened her pace. Every few seconds, she called out, "Adam?" George was lingering behind, hands thrust into his pockets, a scowl on his face.

Dustin had led a fairly short mortal existence, only about thirty years, and his life experiences had not been great or memorable ones. For the most part, he had been timid and shy,(except when it came to a trio of certain individuals who always got on his nerves). But being the wallflower that he was, he had learned to observe people. It didn't take an expert in reading body language to know that George Gracey, the normally proud and collected master of the mansion, was angry and frustrated. This whole Clarisse thing had him really riled.

Falling into step with the aristocrat, the coachman asked tentatively, "You like her, don't you?"

George looked from the thin, bespectacled man to the curvy redhead. With a wistful sigh, he smiled dreamily. "I think I'm in love. She's everything I've ever wanted. Pretty, strong, take-charge..."

"Don't forget married and alive," Dustin interjected. "And you just don't seem to have the best luck with--" He promptly shut his mouth.

"What?" George demanded with a glare.

Faltering under the scowl, Dustin said nervously, "You just don't have the best luck with women. There was the...uh..." He held his left pointer finger straight out and walked his right pointer and middle fingers along it like legs. Then he mimed the shape of snapping jaws with his left hand and made the right fingers fall into it. "And then there's..." He pointed upwards. George glared at him, and Dustin felt as if the blazing blue eyes were shooting holes in him. Unable to stop himself, he continued to babble. "And...There was that little girl...in the graveyard...the one that said she was your..."

"That's not true," George snapped. His features softened. "At least, I don't think it is." When Dustin stared at him with a quizzical arched eyebrow, he continued. "I don't remember much of the last few years of my life. But I would think something like that would have stuck with me." He watched as Clarisse power walked ahead of him. Changing the subject back, he said, "Do you think I have a chance with her?"

"Sir, to be perfectly honest, no. She came here to find her husband. She loves him and he loves her. Adam's a fine chap and Clarisse has a good head on her shoulders."

"And a pretty one, too."

Dustin ignored him. "They deserve each other. Did you honestly think you could break them up?" he asked insincerely. He chuckled. "It's not like in the old days, when a man won a woman's heart by beating his rival in a duel."

George suddenly stopped, his eyes alit with a plan. "That's a great idea!"

"What? What's a great idea?" Dustin asked worriedly.

Master Gracey didn't answer him. "I have to go to the ballroom. I'll meet you in the foyer!" He dashed through a wall.

With a sigh, Dustin glided up alongside the sprinting woman. "Just to let you know, he's going to do something stupid."

"Who?" asked Clarisse, not particularly caring as she turned a corner.

"George. He's got it in his head that he can win you."

"'Win' me?" she snarled. "What am I, a cupie doll at a shoot the duck booth? Who does he think he is!"

"There's no telling what's in the mind of an idiot."

The two came to the front room. Clarisse bolted to the hidden door and tugged on it as hard as she could. "Adam! Adam, are you in there?"

* * *

The four dead men sat on the beam that Adam's body swung from. "A bit of torn clothing, a strand of his hair...anything!" groaned Adam. He turned to Phineas. "Don't you have, like, a fingerprint dusting kit in that bag?"

"Do I look like the type of guy who would carry around useless stuff?"

Faintly from the other side of the room, came the cry of, "Adam!"

The young ghost paused and listened. "It couldn't be," he whispered to himself. "Clarisse?"

"Adam!"

"Clarisse!" Adam floated down from his perch and hit the floor running. He bolted through the door...and then through his waiting wife. With a sheepish grin, he turned around. "Sorry, I haven't gotten used to the whole ghost thing." They embraced tightly and cried and laughed at the sheer joy and relief of seeing each other again.

"I thought I'd lost you," Clarisse whispered into his ear.

"I've been here, hanging out with my new buddies." He smiled and nodded to the trio, who had followed him out. Gus waved shyly at Clarisse. Phineas took the two boxes of tissues out of his carpet bag, kept one, and handed the other to Ezra. They pretended to wipe a bit of dirt out of their eyes and they tried to hold back tears.

"They seem...nice, in a slightly insane sort of way. Does that one have a ball and chain?"

Adam chuckled. "I've missed you. And," the smile vanished, "I wish more than anything in the world right now that I could just go home with you."

Clarisse wiped away a few tears and grinned. "You can! George knows this woman, well, actually, she's more like a decapitated witch stuck in a paperweight, but that's not important, anyway, she can bring you back to life!"

Laughing, he hugged her again and kissed her. "Great, where is she?"

"George knows...wait, where did he go?"

It was at that moment that George Gracey materialized. In his hands he held two revolvers. "Adam, I know that you like Clarisse, but I realized that I'm in love with her."

"Oh, bloody hell," moaned Dustin.

"Anyway," George panted nervously, "I feel that we, as gentlemen, should settle this, as gentlemen. Adam Parker..." He stopped and searched through his pockets until he found a glove. He slapped Adam's face with it. "I challenge you to a duel!"

Adam rubbed his cheek. "What is your damage?" he yelled, shocked. "And who are you?"

"I," declared George with authority, "am Master George Gracey, the lord of this manor. Now, do you, Mr. Parker, accept my challenge?"

"This is stupid!" Clarisse cried. "You're both dead!"

Adam sneered. "I do." He snatched the glove from George's hand and slapped him. "That was for hitting me." He tucked the glove into the breast pocket of George's jacket and took a gun.

"Turn." They both turned. "Take ten paces...one...two...three..."

"Can't you talk some sense into him?" Clarisse asked Dustin.

"What do you think I tried to do earlier?"

She stared at the hitchhikers. Ezra was calling for bets. "I've got twenty on the newbie, fifteen on the master. Any more takers?"

"...eight...nine...ten. Turn and...FIRE!" But just as the two ghosts were about to pull the triggers, a loud sound suddenly rang through the mansion. It sounded like a deep chiming noise, like a giant grandfather clock. The hitchhikers, Clarisse and Adam looked around in confusion, but all of the color left in George's face suddenly drained.

"Adam, what time is it?" He asked as the chiming continued. Clarisse counted the times that the clock went off, trying to figure out what time it was.

Four…Five…Six…

"What good is that going to do?" Adam yelled over the noise, "It stopped working when I died!"

Seven…Eight…Nine…

"Just do it!"

Ten…Eleven…Twelve…

"Hey…" He said, looking down, "It's changed…and it says…thirteen."

…Thirteen?

All of a sudden, Adam collapsed on the ground, gasping. He seemed to be in pain, even though he was a ghost. Clarisse watched in confusion as a white whisp of smoke floated out of him and through the wall.

"Leota," George gasped.


	12. Leota Strikes Again

Chapter 12: Leota Strikes Again

"Leota?" Clarisse asked, "What does she have to do with this?"

Adam slowly made it to his feet, his arms around Dustin and Phineas's shoulders, but he seemed to be okay. "I feel kinda sick," he moaned softly.

"It'll wear off in a bit," said Dustin sympathetically.

"No time to explain!" George shouted at Clarisse. "We've got to get out before-" he started, but never finished his sentence. All of a sudden the lights started to flicker in the gallery, like an electrical shortage was occurring. The room suddenly jolted, stretching a few inches quickly, and Clarisse grabbed a wall for support. There was a deep rumbling noise, the lights went out completely, and then the room dropped.

Much faster than the first time Clarisse was in it, it was now like a drop ride at an amusement park. Clarisse screamed from shock and confusion, feeling herself fall but not seeing what was going on. The rumbling stopped and the lights flickered back on.

Clarisse's eyes adjusted, and looked around for the others. They weren't there.

"Adam?" she called frantically.

"Up here," came a response from above. She looked up and saw that all of the other ghosts seemed to be standing in midair where the room had been. Clarisse smiled at them as they floated down to where she was. George's expression, however, was quite different.

"We've got to get to Leota's room before she can do more damage," he said, and snapped his fingers. The secret panel opened, and the ghosts and girl rushed out the door and towards her room. As they ran…and glided…Clarisse recognized everything she passed in a blur. She felt like she sort of knew the house now, even though she had only been here for a few hours. As they made their way through the mansion, George explained what was going on.

"Leota draws her power from the ghosts she summons here. She used to be able to summon ghosts from all over the place, but when she became trapped, the ghosts seemed to stop coming. There were nine-hundred and ninety nine here…but there was room for a thousand.

"I think that Adam was the straw that broke the camel's back. Ghosts have to be dead for a certain amount of time…until thirteen 'o clock…and then Leota can draw from their essence, and absorb their power. When she did, she was finally able to break free. We have to stop her."

They eventually reached the door to the séance room, but much to their dismay…

"The door's covered with a ghost barrier!" Dustin said, "What are we going to do? We can't break it down without touching it!"

"Well…we've got to find SOME way to go in…" Gus said.

One by one, all of the ghosts looked at Clarisse. When she saw they were staring at her, she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, sure! I'll go! The fragile, live one. You dead people stay out here with your invincibility and special powers and leave it up to me!" Clarisse said cynically, and touched the door handle. When she wasn't repulsed, she turned the knob and entered the room.

When Clarisse saw the séance room, a look of shock came across her face. The quiet room had transformed into a hellhole…literally. The séance table had a moat of molten fire around it, and a corporeal Leota was sitting in her chair, summoning spirits from the bowels of hell. They swirled around the room, screeching and howling, and they were nothing more than a ghostly head and tail. Clarisse tried to be quiet, but Leota noticed her.

"Ah…there you are…and just in time. There's a little matter I forgot to mention," Madame Leota said, grinning evilly and holding her hands over the now empty crystal ball, "Beware of foul-tempered ghosts."

Wraiths started to circle around Clarisse, trapping her and keeping her from moving.

"Why are you doing this!" Clarisse yelled.

"Simple. Revenge."

"What!"

"I once had control of this mansion…one hundred and thirteen years ago, actually. But that George…oh, he ruined everything. He tried to stop my séances, he said that ghosts weren't welcome here…but he was just too stupid to realize my full power!"

She raised her arms and hands out and floated into the air. The lava flared up, starting to pour over the moat and slowly fill the room. It reached the séance table and chair quickly, and they started to sizzle and melt from the molten liquid. Clarisse realized with horror that it would eventually reach her; and she could do nothing about it.

* * *

Unknown to Clarisse and Leota, the ghosts were trying to get the door open. Gus even tried to smash it using his metal ball. Phineas stepped aside and opened his carpetbag. He reached in and started pulling out what looked like a log. And kept pulling...and pulling...and pulling…until... 

"Where did you get an sixth century Viking battering ram?" demanded Ezra.

"Garage sale." Rather than argue the sheer bizarreness of it, the ghosts broke the door down. They stared in horror at the nightmarish scene before them.

"Bloody Hell," Dustin murmured.

"Literally or figuratively?" asked Phineas.

"Both."

Adam watched in terror as the lava flowed slowly towards his wife, while Ezra, Phineas and Gus cowered in fear behind him. George glared at Leota, unable to do anything.

"George was a fool to try and stop me. The only thing to do was kill him. So I did," Leota said nonchalantly, like it was nothing. George's expression changed from anger to confusion.

"What?" he muttered in shock. He didn't remember this…

"But just as I thought my plan was going to work, George fought back. Instead of letting me kill him, he killed himself; and by doing so, trapped me in that accursed crystal ball – which can now," Leota paused, looking at it. It had sunk into the lava with the rest of the table, and slowly fizzled away, "No longer do anything to me!" She laughed and Clarisse watched helplessly at the madwoman. Adam, meanwhile, started to get mad.

"We've got to do something!" Adam said, his hands tightening into fists, "She's going to kill Clarisse!"

"What do you want US to do about it? We're cowards!" Gus, Ezra and Phineas whined.

"Fine lot you are," snapped Dustin.

"I don't see you runnin' in!" Ezra snarled back.

Taking in the scene before them, Dustin gulped fearfully. Then he slowly smiled. "I'll be right back!" He took off, vanishing from sight.

"Create a diversion," Adam said, and suddenly lifted into the air and flew through the door. The hitchhikers shrugged, and flew into the room as well.

Meanwhile, George's memory was flooding back. He HAD been murdered…that's why he couldn't remember his death…and it explained everything. He continued to stare into space numbly as the others took action.

"Hey!" Ezra called, flying up to Leota, "What do you call a fortune teller with half a brain?"

"Gifted!" Gus said with a cackle, finishing the joke. Leota glared at them.

"I never liked you three – it will be nice to finally get rid of you!" She held her palm out, and a green beam shot out of it at Phineas. He ducked, causing his hat to fly off of his head and the beam to shoot through the space between him and his hat.

"Woah! Close one!" Phineas said, grabbing his hat and continuing to fly.

The trick playing trio were guffawing so loudly, they didn't notice the five evil spirits materialize behind them. They turned around just a moment too late and were sent flying by large, phantom fists. They were soon cornered by the quintet.

"What do we do, E?" Phineas asked Ezra. "They'll just follow us if we go through the wall!"

Normally a quick thinker, Ezra wracked his brains trying to come up with a solution as their attackers drew nearer, cackling at the thought of how they were going to torture their prisoners. The hitchhiker's shut their eyes waiting for the blows. "'I'll be right back'", groaned Ezra. "Ha! If I get my hands on that limey, I'll--" The one nearest Ezra pulled his huge fist back and---

He was suddenly knocked down, as if by a large animal.

"Good show Rolly!" a familiar jubilant voice cried.

Ezra, Phineas, and Gus opened their eyes. Dustin, coach whip in hand, sat astride Rolly, who was having a little too much fun pummeling the ghost he had head butted.

"Five to five," gushed the Brit. "I say, we're evenly matched now, aren't we?" He cracked the whip millimeters from another ghoul's face. "What were you saying, Ezra?"

"That I would give you a big hug and say thanks for saving us."

"No thanks or hugs needed, gents. Tallyho, Rolly! Ha ha!" He raced off to find more bad ghosts to fight.

"We need to start being nicer to him," Phineas muttered. "He gets right maniacal if you push him too far." They simultaneously cringed as the whip cracked against the backs of several ghouls.

Meanwhile, Adam had been able to get the wraiths away from Clarisse, and the two were trying to figure out how to stop Madame Leota.

"I have an idea," Clarisse whispered to Adam.

"Okay…but be careful," he said to his wife, and he pulled her in for a kiss. Unlike the rest of the ghosts that she had touched, his kiss wasn't cold – it was warm and comforting. She stared at him for a moment, and then put her plan into action.

Adam lifted Clarisse up into the air.

"Are you sure you can do this? You still look a little peaked," said Clarisse.

"I'm fine," Adam wheezed. "If I could carry you over the thresh hold, I can fly you a few feet."

"Okay, just fly me right behind her so I can take her by su--" She didn't even finish the sentence before Adam dropped her.

"Sorry!"

Right onto Madam Leota's back.

With surprise, Leota and Clarisse fell onto the platform that the moat surrounded.

"Oh, if it isn't the foolish mortal," Leota gushed. "And what exactly do you plan to do?" Laughing, she slapped her. "Oh, did that hurt?" she asked condescendingly as Clarisse rubbed her red cheek. "Face it, I am all power--"

She didn't count on the mortal's punch to the nose. "You little b-" Clarisse got her across the jaw.

"No one hurts my man, witch!" Clarisse kicked Madam Leota's legs out from under her. "I have two years of tae-bo," she grabbed Leota's hair and smacked her face down on the platform, "and one failed anger management class under my belt!"

All other action seemed to cease as the ghosts stared, slack jawed.

"Cat fight!" yelled Gus gleefully.

"I say!" cried Dustin.

"Beat 'er down!" whooped Phineas.

"This the greatest moment of anyone else's afterlife?" asked Ezra.

With all of the strength she had, Clarisse punched Leota in the head, dazing her. She shoved the soothsayer into the lava, and everyone watched in amazement and disgust as Madame Leota slowly melted away in the magma.

"I'm melting...I'm melting...YOU FOOLS!" she screamed as she sank in, "I WILL RETURN SOMEDAY! YOU AND ALL OF THESE PEOPLE WILL BE CU-"

Leota was cut off as she sank into the lava, disappearing completely. The lava bubbled and in a split second vanished. The room was like it once was, except that it was missing the chair, table and crystal ball. Clarisse collapsed and gasped with relief.

Adam rushed over to her and gave her a big hug.

"Don't worry," Adam said, stroking her hair, "It's over now. It's okay."

"Yes…" George said, speaking for the first time in a while, "But there's one little problem. You're still dead. And we just lost your only ticket outta here."


	13. Hurry Baaack

Chapter 13: Hurry Baaack…

"Oh, God," Clarisse whispered as the color drained from her face. Slowly and silently, she backed away from the group. She leaned against a wall, suddenly feeling weak, and slid all the way down until she was sitting on the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she put her head down and cried, moaning softly, "No, no, no, no..."

Adam didn't seem to notice his weeping wife. He glared at George. "Oh, don't sound so happy about it!"

"I'm not happy about it at all!" George shouted back. "I want you to live as much as you do!"

"Come off it! You've been ogling my wife since she stepped in, haven't you!" Adam shouted, a finger pointed accusingly at George.

"Well, not exactly since she stepped in," George mumbled. "More like forty seconds before she kicked me..." he added thoughtfully. With a frustrated cry, Adam tackled him, knocking him down to the ground. Each man traded punches back and forth until they wound up with their hands around each other's throats, rolling around on the floor, shouting obscene threats.

"Clarisse and Adam are a very aggressive couple," said Gus.

"Shouldn't we step in?" asked Phineas.

Ezra shrugged. "Nothin' better to do," he said as he rolled up his sleeves. "C'mon, Dust, let's get the newbie. Phinny, you and Gus grab George." It was in vain, however, as the four just got pulled into the scuffle. The yelling and fighting drowned out Clarisse's sobs and prevented anyone from noticing the two ghosts who had entered the room.

Little Leota scowled and glared with hate at Clarisse, but when she noticed the mortal was crying, the look of malice vanished and was replaced with concern. "Miss Meanie Head?" she asked as she approached Clarisse.

Emily looked from Clarisse to the fighting dead men and frowned. "Oi!" she yelled, trying to get their attention. "George Edward Gracey!" she screamed shrilly, causing a nearby mirror to crack. The ghosts stopped in mid-brawl and stared at her, frozen. "Oops," she muttered to the broken glass. "That's seven years bad luck." She cleared her throat. "I came down here when I heard the commotion going on a few minutes ago. I assumed it had to do with that-that skanky psychic!" She balled her hands into fists at the memory of Leota. Quickly, she regained her composure and smoothed her hair back. "But," she said sweetly with a smile, "I leave my little attic, and what do I find?" She frowned. "I find that my former husband-to-be and a man have gotten into a brawl over some living, mopey red head!" She gestured to Clarisse, whose shoulder was gently being shaken by Little Leota.

Adam, finally noticing that Clarisse was upset, let go of George's collar and ran to her side. The others tried to retain as much dignity as they could as they dusted themselves off. George cleared his throat nervously as he tried to think of a way to talk himself out of the mess. Meanwhile, Little Leota was looking for her mother. "Where's mommy?" she asked. "She's not in her room."

"Yeah," asked Emily. "What happened to the hussy?"

As George, Ezra, Phineas, Gus, and Dustin attempted to explain what had happened, Adam was trying to comfort Clarisse. "I know this is bad," he said softly as he held her close, "but maybe I can leave, now that that woman's gone. I could haunt the house. We wouldn't have to worry about people coming to our door and trying to sell things anymore; I could scare them away." He tried to force out a laugh and failed.

Clarisse sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "It's not just that, Adam," she snapped angrily. "We--" She stopped and looked at the ghosts. They were still trying to explain what had happened to Little Leota and Emily. The dead child looked as if she was in shock.

Not wanting to chance them hearing her, Clarisse whispered in Adam's ear. Eyes growing wide with surprise, he cried out, "When!"

"Oh, in about eight and a half months, I'd expect," she replied with a weak chuckle.

"No, I mean, when did you find out? Why didn't you tell me?" he stammered.

"I went to the doctor's yesterday. I wanted to think of a special thing for us to do when I told you the news, so I planned to have a candle-lit dinner tonight. But now that's going to be cancelled." She started crying again.

"Oh boy," Adam sighed, leaning against the wall. "Me, a daddy." He couldn't stop himself from smiling or hide the twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "Well, that explains some of the bizarre mood swings you've been having. Wow, I guess I shouldn't have dropped you, huh?"

"I told you I was fragile," she joked tearfully.

"What do you mean she's gone!" Little Leota screamed at George. "How could you let that happen to my mommy!"

"Look, I'm sorry!" he shouted back. "But she was a bad person! And you have been misbehaving, too, young lady!" he said sternly. He bit his tongue, shocked at his own reaction. Little Leota looked up at him with tear soaked green eyes. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his legs and hugged him tightly and sobbed into his knees. Not quite knowing what to do, he put a hand on her back and said soothingly, "It's going to be okay."

"If you ask me," said Dustin with a smile to George, "it seems as if you have plenty of people you need to devote your love to here, sir, rather than trying to woo someone else, hmm?"

"Well, thanks for that little nugget of moral joy, Dustbin," Ezra quipped.

"You know," Phineas said thoughtfully, "I thought we'd actually get through a day without having to learn some lesson."

Emily put her hands on her hips. "I for one am glad that someone around here has a little bit of common sense." She smiled at Dustin. "And I'm not surprised it's an Englishman. It's so refreshing to see someone else from my home country here."

"Likewise." He blushed and scratched the back of his head.

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him aside to chat with him. Snippets of her quick speech were lost, but Dustin saying, "And I couldn't even tell rat poison had been added! That's how bad the tea is here!" and their following laughter could be heard from one corner of the room.

"Crazy teabag suckers deserve each other." Ezra grinned and winked.

"All's well that lived happily ever after," Gus cried gleefully.

"Not exactly," said Phineas, pointing to Adam and Clarisse. With her husband's arms wrapped around her, she was still crying. Her tears rained through his shoulder and down to the carpet, making a puddle. "I don't think," he continued, "that's something we can fix."

Someone knocked at the door. "Who could that be?" George muttered as he answered it. Standing on the other side of the thresh hold, was a man in his mid forties with thinning light brown hair, and wearing jeans and a brown jacket. He took one look at the ghosts and started to run in the other direction.

Adam looked up at him and a look of rage washed over his features. "Duncan, get back here right now!"

The man stopped, one foot in the air, and turned around. "Adam..." he groaned sadly "Oh, geeze, it wasn't a dream. I really did it." With an apprehensive look at George, he fearfully dashed past him and into the house. "I don't know what happened! I remember coming in here this afternoon to see if you needed any help!" He wrung his hands nervously. "And then, I found this room with this woman in it and--and she said some weird words to me---and I remember climbing onto this beam after you--and then I--I put this noose around your neck, and there were these ghosts helping me and--and I told Henry to call you, Clarisse, because there had been an accident, and the ghosts chased everyone away and--Adam I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did it! And now you're dead and a ghost and..." He wrung his hands again. "These dead people are watching me!" Eyes bulging in fright at the hitchhiker's he screamed, "You guys are scaring me! Stop grinning at me like that!"

"You didn't do it on purpose?" asked Adam.

Duncan shook his head with a mournful expression. "No, I would never. I couldn't take you away from Clarisse; she loves you too much. I don't know why, exactly, you're an immature punk most of the time, but I wouldn't kill you. It was like I was hypnotized or something, like I was walking in a dream. A few minutes ago, the feeling went away and I could think again. I rushed back here to see if it really happened, and if it had, if I could help."

"What do you mean, 'help'?" Clarisse asked curiously.

"Um, well, my grandmother had this book that she gave to me of magic incantations and rituals, and I think there was a spell in there for putting a soul back into its body. But the death has to be recent. I want to fix this."

"What are you waiting for?" Clarisse grinned. "The ladder should still in the gallery. Hurry up, let's get him--er, his body!"

Adam grabbed her hand before she could run into the secret room. With a smile, he said, "No more straining." Then he quickly kissed her and ran through the wall, followed by George, Ezra, Dustin, and Gus.

Duncan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little black book. "Still don't know what you see in him," he muttered. "Okay," he opened the book to a marked page. "We'll need a vial of chicken blood, white chalk, orange sand, and water mixed with sea salt and sage." He closed the book and looked up to see that all of the requested items were on the floor. Phineas was just closing his bag. "Where did you...?"

"Just some stuff I always keep on me." The ghost grinned.

"Don't drop it!" came a yell from inside the gallery. "I don't want to go back into my body with bruises! No, don't, stop!"

THUD!

"Thanks a lot Gus! Now I'm gonna have a bump on my head the size of a golf ball!"

* * *

About ten minutes later, they were all standing on the front porch of Gracey Manor. Little Leota and Emily finished drawing an intricate pentagram design on the wooden terrace, and George and Adam placed the body on top of it. Walking around the perimeter of the circle, Duncan sprinkled the two vials of liquid around the outside of the drawing and recited the spell as Clarisse sprinkled the sand over Adam. Within seconds of finishing the incantation, a small wispy silver tornado that was hardly half of Little Leota's height, appeared over Adam's body.

"Hey, what's tha--" before Adam could finish the question, the tiny whirlwind sucked him in, pulling him back into his body. As soon as it vanished, the now mortal Adam sat up, gasping for air. "Oh, my head!"

Clarisse hugged him, knocking out the oxygen he had tried so hard to inhale. "Glad to have you back, hon'."

"Glad to be back," he grinned, embracing her.

Duncan shut the book with a snap. "Good ol' Grandma LeRoch." He looked about nervously. "Say, she isn't here, is she?" he asked George.

"Dunky!" a female voice with a thick New Orleans accent called lovingly. "Come give your ol' granny a kiss!"

Stifling a scream, Duncan raced off the porch, jumping clear over the stairs. He stumbled as he hit the dirt, and then bolted for his car. His dead grandmother was right at his heels. "You haven't been eating my specially made horse radish stuffed sausage gumbo twice a day, have you, Dunky? I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on you, boy! Don't you run away while I'm talking to you!"

"So," said Adam as he and Clarisse walked back to her car, "how about...Adam Parker the second?"

She scoffed. "And how do you know it's a boy, Mr. Ego? What if it's a girl?"

He thought about it for a second. "Melody."

Clarisse pondered it. "That's not too bad. I see your love for music never wavered."

"Speaking of which, I was thinking about quitting my construction job and maybe teaching band class at your school..."

"Cute couple," chuckled George as he watched them drive away. He looked around the porch. The others seemed to have vanished, except for Little Leota.

She tugged on his sleeve. "Let's play a game," she suggested with a smile.

"Like what?" he asked as they went back into the house.

"Ooh, we could play horseshoes in the graveyard, or go bike riding, or jump rope, or play a board game..."

In the graveyard, two ghosts sat on the hearse's bench. "Where to?" Dustin asked Emily. "With the curse broken, we're free to go anywhere!"

"Oh, I have some relatives in Manchester I would just love to visit!"

Rolly leisurely started trotting out of the cemetery. The driver and the bride didn't even notice the three stowaways until Ezra, Phineas, and Gus started up a round of "Merrily On Our Way to Nowhere in Particular!" It wasn't long until Dustin and Emily joined in.

And they all "lived" happily ever after.

* * *

A/N: "Merrily On Our Way to Nowhere in Particular" was a song from the movie, _The Adventures of Ichabod and Mister Toad. _

We had a lot of fun collaborating on this story, and we hope you had fun reading it! Happy haunting, fellow ghost fans!


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